Song of Songs

by Marc Graham

  Bilkis’s throat burned from her screams. Her tongue cleaved to the roof of her mouth, and her fingers bled from the sharp edges of the stones. But her heart sang. Auriyah—husband, lover, tormentor—was dead. It remained only to greet the once and future king, and to secure the crown for herself and for the child that grew in her womb.

  21

  Bilkis

  For the second time in as many months, the people of Urusalim turned out for the triumphal entry of their king. As before, palm branches and shouts of Hoshiahna filled the air. As before, eager peasants lined the slope while nervous elites milled about the upper city.

  And Bilkis watched.

  In Auriyah’s name she had ordered the palace gate barred, ordered the twice-made widows shut in the harem. While the Hatti guard kept an uneasy watch atop the palace wall, Bilkis surveyed all from the roof of her apartments. She had washed away the filth and blood, anointed herself with myrrh-scented oil, and put on a gown of sheer linen.

  When Tadua, mounted on his white donkey, reached the upper city, Bilkis climbed down the stairs to her room. With measured steps she moved through the empty corridors of the palace and crossed the courtyard. A pair of Hatti swordsmen murmured between themselves, casting glances from the gate to the walls.

  “Open the gate,” Bilkis commanded. The men looked blankly at her. “In the name of the king, open the gate.”

  “In the king’s name we sealed the gate,” one of the men replied.

  “Different king,” Bilkis said, a grin tugging at the corner of her mouth. “Your commander has fled. The true king arrives even now.”

  As though on command, a boom echoed through the gatehouse.

  “Open in the name of the king.” General Ayub’s voice was unmistakable.

  “The king commands,” Bilkis said, her tone calm as she stepped toward the men. “Open the gate.”

  “Auriyah is gone?” the first man said, fear creeping into his eyes. “We must flee.”

  He hadn’t finished the words before Bilkis swept his sword from its scabbard. Bronze scraped on bronze as she shoved the blade up beneath his breastplate. Surprise replaced fear on both men’s faces. Bilkis’s victim opened his mouth, but instead of words a gout of blood poured forth. His legs buckled and the sword escaped the queen’s hands as he fell.

  “The gate,” Bilkis ordered the other man.

  The Hatti warrior who had fought beside Auriyah for years, who had slain armed enemies by the dozen, now backed away from the young queen. His hands trembled as he waved them before him, as though to ward her off. When a few paces separated them, he turned and ran back into the palace.

  The guards atop the wall gaped at the scene below, then dropped their weapons and followed their comrade’s example.

  “Fearless warriors.” Bilkis spat, then wrenched the sword from the dead man’s belly.

  The palace gate was sealed by timbers propped against the cedar panels. Bilkis couldn’t quite reach the cradles that held the beams against the gate. Instead, she used the sword to pry one of the timbers from its socket in the pavement. The heavy walnut crashed to the ground, overwhelming Ayub’s shouts.

  Bilkis rolled the beam out of the way then tugged on one great bronze handle. The gate slowly swung open to reveal Tadua’s general.

  Ayub’s eyes widened and his mouth fell open as he stared at Bilkis. The queen followed his gaze and found her new gown stained in fresh blood.

  “Havah’s tits,” she cursed under her breath, then looked up at Ayub. “Five Hatti are left. They may have fled, but your men should clear the palace before the king goes in.”

  “Auriyah?” the general asked.

  A cold smile settled on Bilkis’s lips. “Look for him by the spring of Gihon.”

  Ayub nodded gravely.

  “Tsion belongs to King Tadua,” Bilkis said, her voice loud enough to carry beyond the gate, “and Bilkis bat-Saba is his handmaid.”

  She stepped back then prostrated herself upon the ground. Ayub summoned a few of his warriors to clear the other bar and swing the gate wide. Hooves echoed through the gatehouse and drew near, but Bilkis kept her face to the ground. Sandals scraped along the pavement and a touch fell lightly upon her head.

  “Arise, child.”

  The voice was tight with age, but even those two words sounded like music. Bilkis stood but kept her gaze lowered. A cold finger hooked under her chin and raised her head.

  Tadua, King of Yisrael, stood before her, tall and lean. Ropy muscles stood out on sun-kissed arms and legs. His short beard glistened red and gold in the sunlight, while his long hair, encircled by a thin silver band, retained only a hint of color. Sharp eyes, the shade of a midsummer’s sky, gazed into Bilkis’s. The young queen’s cheeks grew warm.

  “Six-score chosen warriors, and it is this tender rose who returns my palace to me.”

  Tadua turned Bilkis’s head from side to side and looked slowly along her blood-soaked gown, then at the dead Hatti behind her.

  “Though the rose appears to have thorns.”

  “Havah has blessed me to be of service to my lord,” Bilkis replied.

  “Perhaps you may be of greater service still,” the king said.

  The hungry look in his eyes was not unlike what Bilkis had seen in Auriyah’s.

  “I am my lord’s to command. Only … ” She allowed her words to trail off and looked away.

  “What is it, child?” Tadua asked with a stroke of her cheek.

  “The time of my uncleanness approaches,” she said, and the king jerked his hand away as though he’d been struck. “I would not defile my lord or his laws. Allow me to go into seclusion. When I have been purified, if my lord still wishes, I shall come to him then.”

  Disappointment clouded those sky-blue eyes, though it was tempered by something that looked like relief.

  “It shall be even as you say,” Tadua replied. “You will remain in the royal harem until then.”

  “If it please my lord,” Bilkis hastily added, “I would go to the house of Eliam abi-Terah. His daughter is as a sister to me, and will be a greater help than—”

  “Than the women of my own household?” Tadua completed the thought, his expression turning grave.

  “Even so, my lord.”

  “Benyahu will escort you wherever you please,” the king said, and gestured toward a warrior.

  “My lord?” the man said, his eyes wide as he took in Bilkis’s bloody attire.

  “Take our redeemer to the house of Eliam the merchant. And be careful to mark the way. I shall have need of her in a few days’ time.”

  “Yes, Lord.”

  Benyahu motioned for Bilkis to lead the way. The young queen bowed her head to Tadua then walked regally toward the gate. She fought to keep her gait steady and her expression neutral when the king next spoke.

  “Ayub, go find my son.”

  22

  Bilkis

  Eliam’s house lay in the upper city, only two streets from the palace. Bilkis remained there during the week of her supposed impurity. She knew no blood would come, but she must feign the uncleanness if Abdi-Havah’s plan was to succeed. Rahab went daily to the priest’s home where the old man met with Ayub and Abiattar to further their plans.

  “It is good you are not in the palace,” Rahab told Bilkis the day after Tadua’s return. “Soldiers found Auriyah’s body and brought him to the king.”

  “How did he reward them?” Bilkis asked. Might she have strengthened her position by telling Tadua how she had restored his throne?

  “He hacked off one man’s head,” Rahab said. “The other lost a hand before Ayub managed to take the king’s sword. They say the king mourns as a mother over her lost child.”

  Bilkis leaned back against her cushion and mused on what kind of man this King Tadua was. “He whelps a brute and a traitor,” she observed, “a son who conspires against his own father, then grieves when justice is done?”

  Rahab shrugged. “Ayub says it has always been so. T
adua is a lion to his enemies, but a lamb when it comes to his children. Or to women.”

  “What of his queens? How does the lamb treat his defiled wives?”

  Rahab sat beside Bilkis and started brushing out her hair. “They are still shut away in the harem. He summoned Maacah to the audience hall to tell her their son is dead. Ayub says the king did not touch her, scarcely looked upon her. He sent her back to the harem to mourn.”

  The next day, Rahab told how the remaining Hatti had been found. How the king had castrated them with his own sword. How he stuffed their manhood in their mouths then had them hanged from the palace walls.

  The day after that, Bilkis learned that Tadua had acknowledged Auriyah’s claim to the royal wives. They were to be kept in the palace as widows. By the seventh day, Tadua had accepted the pledges of the priests and tribal elders, most of whom had, not a month earlier, given their oaths to his son.

  “King Tadua says the gods love nothing more than to show mercy to one’s enemies,” Rahab explained.

  “And what does Ayub say?” Bilkis prompted her, knowing what the general’s response would be.

  “He said the king should sow the fields with his enemies’ bones, fertilize them with their blood, and see if the gods didn’t increase the harvest.”

  Bilkis laughed. “And Abdi-Havah?”

  Rahab’s fair skin paled, and the girl took Bilkis’s hands in hers.

  “He says it is time.”

  Bilkis awakened the next morning and crossed the courtyard. Eliam’s household shrine lay near the gate, where the gods could more easily keep watch over the comings and goings. The young queen knelt upon silk cushions before the altar. Effigies of Yisrael’s gods sat within a small temple of alabaster lit by a continually burning lamp.

  Yah, Ancient of Days, sat upon his throne. Havah, Queen of Heaven, stood with hands supporting her full breasts over a very pregnant belly. Hadad, Rider on the Clouds, posed within his chariot while Ashtart, She of the Javelin, crouched in her leonine form.

  Though Bilkis rarely addressed the gods, this day was different. All she had endured—the humiliation, the brutality—all could be made right this day. Today she would welcome any divine assistance she might receive. She anointed the gods with oil, then lit a candle, set it before Havah, and sprinkled incense over its flame. “Queen of Heaven, hear my prayer,” she murmured, “and give me success.”

  Rahab had just awakened when Bilkis returned to the living area. The pair broke their fast with dates, bread, and curds.

  “You should start a fire and draw the water for my bath,” Bilkis suggested when she’d had her fill. “Ayub plans to have the king in place before noon.”

  Rahab glanced at her half-full plate.

  “Must I start now?”

  “The water must be warm, and it will take many buckets to fill the basin. There are also the trellises to set up and the carpets to hang.”

  Rahab stuffed a date and some bread into her mouth. “It will go more quickly if you help,” she suggested, the food muffling her words.

  “My sister,” Bilkis said, smiling as she rested her hands upon her still-flat belly, “I would gladly help, but it would not do for me to be seen at such chores if I am to be Queen.”

  “You are already Queen,” Rahab insisted.

  “And I must be seen as such. Oh, do not pout. Here, I will make the fire,” Bilkis offered. “But, you must stack the wood. I mustn’t risk a splinter.”

  Another piece of bread went into Rahab’s mouth before she shoved her plate aside and went about her chores.

  “At least the cistern is full,” Bilkis called after her. “Be happy you don’t have to go down to the spring.”

  A short time later, Rahab had the fire going with pots hung about the hearth to heat the water. “I really shouldn’t risk a burn,” Bilkis had demurred as Rahab worked.

  While Rahab shuttled steaming water to the roof, Bilkis went into her bedchamber to ensure her gown and jewelry were prepared. “The water mustn’t be too hot,” she called up through the roof opening. “I can’t simply stand there waiting for it to cool. And not too cold. It makes my skin shrivel.”

  After another armload of wood on the fire and an untold number of buckets ferried up the ladder, Rahab at last had the basin filled. The sun was not quite at noon when she called down.

  “He’s there.”

  Bilkis’s stomach tightened. Her breath stuttered and a sudden dryness scratched her throat. She offered up another quick plea for Havah’s blessing, then climbed the stairs to the roof.

  Rahab had everything arranged. Willow frames hung with carpets provided seclusion from the neighboring houses but left a clear view to the palace. Veils of blue silk spanned the tops of the screens to cast the bathing area in a soft glow.

  “Don’t stare,” Bilkis hissed to Rahab, then cast her own furtive glance toward the royal compound.

  Across the distance—more than a stone’s flight but close enough to make out details—Tadua walked atop the roof of the palace. Ayub accompanied the king, who held his nephew’s arm and seemed to lean upon him. The general led Tadua to the parapet, where the two looked out over Urusalim. Bilkis imagined that Ayub cast her the slightest of nods. She moved to the basin, stripped off her linen shift, and allowed Rahab to help her into the water.

  Bilkis went about the routine of brushes and sponges and soaps. She fought the urge to watch Tadua and Ayub. After a time, the water’s embrace and Rahab’s brushstrokes through the queen’s hair eased her anxiety and lulled her close to sleep.

  “They’ve gone,” Rahab whispered.

  Bilkis blinked heavy eyelids open and looked toward the palace, its roof now empty. Rahab helped her out of the bath and gave her a towel. Bilkis dried herself then went down to her dressing room.

  The gown she’d chosen was finest silk, dyed in the rare purple available only from the merchants of Tsur. Its cut was modest, though crafted to display her figure to advantage. Bilkis adorned her ears and neck and wrists with gold.

  Rahab coiled the queen’s hair atop her head and secured it with ivory combs, then applied paints and powders to accentuate Bilkis’s eyes and to highlight the shape of her lips and cheeks. When she’d finished, the girl held up a polished silver mirror.

  “You could rival Ashtart herself,” Rahab said.

  Bilkis gazed at her reflection and smiled. She was beautiful, and soon that beauty would win her yet another king’s favor.

  A knock sounded at the gate. Bilkis looked at Rahab and took a deep breath. They crossed the courtyard, where Rahab opened the gate to reveal Benyahu.

  The war-captain was old, perhaps thirty, but he gawped at Bilkis like an unblooded youth. His mouth fell open, his eyes devouring her. Throat bobbed, lips twitched as though to form words, but no sound came out.

  Bilkis grinned and stood a little taller. She pulled back her shoulders, and Benyahu’s neck and cheeks flushed red. He tore his eyes away and cleared his throat. “If the time of your seclusion is complete,” he said, “King Tadua summons you for an audience.”

  Tadua, as it turned out, was a more gentle lover than his son. Whether owing to temperament or age—he’d seen nearly seventy summers—the king brought a patient and giving spirit to the conjugal couch. So much so that Bilkis fairly had to wrest his seed from him.

  After she rolled off him, Tadua pulled on his robe, kissed Bilkis lightly on the forehead, then left her chamber without a word. Rahab came in a short time later, and the two moved to the roof to enjoy the late afternoon breeze.

  “Three weeks more,” Bilkis mused aloud. “I must share my couch with the king another time or two, and then I will tell him of the gods’ blessing.”

  On the appointed day, Bilkis dressed simply in a robe of pale blue, the king’s favorite color. She found Tadua in his audience hall, surrounded by his council. Ayub, Abiattar, and the other councillors bowed their heads when Bilkis entered. Tadua leaned forward on his throne and stretched a hand toward her.

/>   “Most joyous of days,” Bilkis said after she’d taken the king’s hand and kissed it. “Havah has answered my prayer. The gods have given me a child. Your seed grows in my womb.”

  Tadua’s pale eyes grew rheumy with tears. A smile spread behind his thin beard. “All praise to Yah,” he said. “Can it be? Shall my last years be spent in joy and not grieving?”

  Tadua had a tendency toward the poetic, Bilkis had learned, an endearing affectation that raised the spirits of those around him.

  For the most part.

  As Bilkis stepped onto the dais and took her seat beside Tadua’s throne, she noticed the distinct lack of joy on the face of Prince Baaliyah. The king’s eldest son looked as though he’d tasted an unripe persimmon. Born before Tadua had taken Urusalim from Abdi-Havah, Baaliyah had endured his father’s wars and the rebellions of two of his younger brothers. All the while, the prince remained steadfast by his father.

  Baaliyah now glared at Bilkis, a brutish mix of disdain and hunger on his broad features. The queen smiled at her brother-in-law-made-stepson, then turned her attention to the other members of the court. Ayub nodded with grim approval. Abiattar cast the thinnest of veils over his pride, while the other members of the council seemed to share the king’s joy. As Bilkis made her survey of the faces, she noted whose eyes matched their expressions, and she tucked the information safely in her heart.

  23

  Bilkis

  When the days of Bilkis’s counting were complete, she sent Rahab for the midwife and for Abdi-Havah.

  “You would bring my enemy into my very house?” Tadua demanded when he learned of her request.

  Bilkis blinked in surprise. The king had never before raised his voice to her. Not only that, but he put aside his usual poetic ramblings and cut to the very heart of the matter.